


Let Me Swoon Over You

by teenuviel1227



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, Smut, bad catholic school boys, bandits in love, runaways - Freeform, switch!Jaehyungparkian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14104134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenuviel1227/pseuds/teenuviel1227
Summary: The one where Jae and Brian are a duo who run away from their uptight Catholic school, take Brian’s motorcycle out to the edge of nowhere and live on the currency of young love.





	1. New York

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back. From. My hiatus and my soul is dying for a) some jaehyungparkian sexytimes and b) fanfic in general.  
> So. Forgive me. This is going to be some sexxxxxxy shit. Thanks.  
> This fic was inspired by the music videos of Crazy by Aerosmith and Robbers by The 1975.  
> Title is from Swoon by Beach Weather; thanks to @d6haru on twt for the recc!!!  
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Tumblr](http://teenuviel1227.tumblr.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two forces collide, a plan set in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will update this week.

Jae knew it from the moment that Brian sauntered up to him in the hallway between first and second period on his first day at St. Jude’s, a wicked smile on his face, his tie undone, polo unbuttoned, backpack slung over one shoulder, his hair mussed in that just-right way, fringe falling into his eyes. Jae’s heart leapt as Brian nodded at him, lifting a finger to skim the collar of his uniform, the soft line of Jae’s neck, the hair that kissed the fabric ever-so-slightly, letting his thumb linger at the hollow of Jae’s throat.

“Tsk,tsk,” Brian said, coy. “Hair touching the collar--first week and you’re already breaking all the rules, pretty boy.”

Jae had grinned even as he’d blushed--not out of embarrassment, not really, just an involuntary bodily reaction he’d never gotten too good a handle on. _Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad._

He hadn’t really wanted to be here, had already liked his status as _the_ troublemaker in his previous prep school, had been comfortable with his place on the food chain in the school before that, but what was new? But his stepdad was always trying to make things hard for him, always tearing down the things that he worked so hard to achieve. These things were arranged behind his back, the rug of his life always being pulled out from under him: surprise, new school. Surprise, new life. Surprise, we’ll ship your things over after. Of course, no one _asked_ if he wanted to move after he’d been caught smoking weed in the parking lot or after he’d been discovered fucking Wonpil on the study hall desk or after he’d doused the principal’s office in glue and then thrown a bag of feathers on it or after he’d vandalized the entire football field via hijacking the lawnmowers and drawing a penis in the grass to replace the school crest.

As pretty, as delicate and wispy as he’d been told he looked all his life, Jae has always felt confident in who he is, has always felt defiant of all of them: the priests or brothers or whoever they were paying to keep him in a box, his mom and her notions of what he _should_ do, his stepfather who, for all the cliches of the notion, Jae simply was never, ever going to call _dad_.

And when he saw Brian on that first day, when he took in that smirk, that swagger, the sly expression in his eyes, it’s almost as though he was looking in a mirror: he knew that he’d met his match--and he wasn’t going to waste anytime.

He’d flicked Brian on the forehead, grinning but letting his lower lip linger a moment longer in the clutches of his teeth in a way he’d been told by a number of ex-lovers was maddeningly attractive. Dowoon--whom he’d gotten caught blowing in the old garage they used for auto-shop class three prep schools ago--in particular, had said his lips were the thing about Jae that drove him to the confessional every Friday. And just like back then, Jae felt satisfaction curl in his gut as he saw Brian’s grin widen, his eyes mischievious as they flickered down toward Jae’s mouth for a moment.

He’d laughed, looked Brian square in the eye. “What are you, the fucking prefect or something?”

To Jae’s mild surprise and great delight, Brian had just clicked his tongue and leaned in, voice low as he let his lips brush against the fleshy lobe of Jae’s ear.

“As a matter of fact, I am. As for the _fucking_ bit, how about you meet me in the library between fourth and fifth period--”

He slipped his hand down Jae’s arm, putting a small key in his hand.

“--restricted section. Prefect privileges.”

 

Brian knew it at first fuck. There was something about the way that Jae kissed, something about the way that he was both pliant and forceful, the way that his hands were both gentle and insistent as they untucked Brian’s  undershirt from his slacks, the way that he let Brian push him onto his knees, the way that he let Brian hold him steady as he thrust into his mouth, but after, got up to push Brian against the shelves, holding up his smaller, broader hands in his longer, more graceful ones before whispering a soft _keep them there, Bribri_ in his ear. It sent an electric thrill up Brian’s spine--and god knows what he did for a thrill these days. There was something about the way that he moved his hand over to cover Brian’s mouth as he pushed into him, the turns in which he was both unbridled (going relentlessly fast, deep) and gentle (whispering compliments in Brian’s ear, small _oh yeah, you’re doing really well_ s while working him with one hand until he was spilling himself into Jae’s hand, onto the linoleum floor).

It was a strange way to fall in love for sure--Brian would know, him of the running for student body representative every year (emphasis on body) which gave him license to do what he wanted with the end-of-year-parties, always arranging for post-party hotel rooms and soirees where they could play, him of the effortlessly keeping an arbitrary scholarship (his father donated a huge amount of money to the school anyway) that gave him license to do what he would with his prefect privileges, him of the dealing with jaded partners who didn’t quite understand what he meant when he said he wasn’t really looking for any commitment at the moment. If he was going to fall in love with anyone, he’d thought for a long while that it would most probably be Sungjin: he’d been Brian’s first and was the one person who hadn’t ever asked him for anything that he wasn’t ready to give. In that sense, he understood who Brian was--a sagittarius to the hilt, fire waiting to consume whatever there was to consume, interested more in the experiences of things than the things themselves. Boys, girls, girls who wanted to be boys, boys who felt they were girls--who would, in fact, one day become women--Brian cherished them all in his own way, had made love to all of them for the sake of companionship and curiousity but hadnt fallen in love with any of them. It could’ve been Sungjin, Brian remembered thinking once, as they sat pressed up against each other in the hot tub of Sungjin’s parents’ penthouse suite, overlooking the New York skyline, but well, it hadn’t been. It was friendly, it was sexual, but it wasn’t love--Brian hadn’t wanted anything else from Sungjin either. And then, of course, Sungjin had gotten into the scholarship program abroad, on early admission to the University of the Arts London.

So somewhere between Jae spilling himself into the condom and both of them wiping themselves off and zipping up, Brian felt a strange thing that he hadn’t ever before. It was something about the way that Jae smiled, the way that the light caught his glasses, the way that he stretched, reaching his fingers up to the sky before grinning at Brian, bleary-eyed, as though he’d just been napping as opposed to ramming into him in the Library’s restricted section: it was a kind of innocence, a carefree quality, a weightlessness that Brian found endearing.

“Hey,” he said, looking up at Jae as they locked the door to the restricted section behind them and walked slowly through the shelves, watching the way that the light played against the platinum blonde of Jae’s hair, the way it played on the tips of his lashes, the way that it formed a sheen on his lips, still kiss-bitten, still slightly swollen if you looked closer.

“Yes?” Jae asked, stopping short, half-smiling, his fingers poised on the spine of a nearby book.

Brian glances at it, notes the title for later--he’d made his mind up there would be a later. IQ84 by Haruki Murakami.

_Good choice._

“How do you feel about skipping fifth?”

 

After that first time, they’d skipped fifth period for what would be the first time in a string of instances of cutting class together--Brian lead them out onto the rooftop of the science building (from there, he’d explained, they could go down and fall in line with the people coming out of class and he’d talk to Jae’s teacher, saying he gave Jae an orientation on the different labs and special types of instruments that were exclusive to St. Jude’s--Jae had cracked a dirty joke about Brian’s instrument). There was a sofa up there that Brian had snuck in, a small overhang built with old lockers filled with snacks and books covered with a blanket.

Brian tossed Jae a can of beer, a small packet of pretzels.

“Step into my office.”

Jae raised an eyebrow, popping the beer open with click-and-fizz and licking at the froth threatening to spill over the rim before taking a swig.

“I didn’t know you were into roleplay.”

Brian laughed. Jae liked the sound of it. “So tell me about you, Mr. Park. I saw your records. Kind of crazy, even by my standards.”

Jae rolled his eyes, reaching into Brian’s front pocket for his pack of cigarettes, drawing one out slowly before lighting it up and taking a drag. The smoke blew up into the crisp September sky like a sliver of a cloud.

“Well. What’s there to say, really? I don’t think the whole sob story would be very interesting. Dad died, Mom remarried. New husband’s a dick, they’ve got a new family--it isn’t that they hate me, it’s just that they kind of ignore me and I hate being ignored. My sister is across the fucking ocean in Seoul, and I’m here. At St. Jude’s Catholic School for boys. Poor little rich boy, I know.”

Brian lit up, let the smoke out through his nose. He nodded. “You’re right. That isn’t very interesting but _you_ are very interesting and that counts for something. The places we’re from should never dictate the places we’re going to go.”

“That by some President or something?”

“No, that’s by Brian Kang, Junior Prefect and heir to the Kang Conglomerate--or so his father hopes.”

“HAH. And I thought _my_ story was cliche. Of course you’re the reluctant heir to something.” Jae smirked, glanced at Brian. He was smiling but his eyes were serious. “What’s with you, by the way? I’m telling you, I’ve seen a lot of things but none of them like you. I don’t think they make prefects like you anywhere else. Don’t you have to get Straight As to get that position or something?”

“Well, Mr. Sloppy-Got-Caught-Fucking-Someone-Over-A-Desk, rule number one if you plan to run away and actually get away with it is don’t get caught. And you know how you don’t get caught? You _become_ the damn authorities. I’m good at math, I like reading, everything else is just leg work.”

Jae tilted his head. “You’re going to run away?”

Brian wiggled his eyebrows. _Come with me._ “Hell yeah. I have a plan and everything--next term, tuition day. I’ll make my withdrawals the day before so nothing’s fishy, tell my dad I feel sick, tell school I’ll be taking the day off for a practicum assignment at Kang Corp--or as I like to call it, Kang Prison--and _voila_. I’ll get on my bike, drive for fucking miles and just get out of here. Live an actual life, you know?”

In the months to come, Jae would kind of come to think of this place as their own: in the sunny weather, he memorized just how the sun fell over the water tank, casting a shadow over them in what felt like a protective, kind way--on rainy days, he’ll remember Brian pushing the shelves and sofa back against the water tank so the rain didn’t hit them as they sat on it, huddled together, knees pressed to knees, Brian kissing him softly, holding his nape with warm palms, his thumb coming to brush up against Jae’s cheek. It’s the one place that both of them will be sorry to leave.

Jae watched Brian and for the first time, felt a lick of admiration, a kick of ambition to become like someone, to make something of himself. He watched Brian then with his cavalier smile and smart mouth, watched as he swept up the cigarette butts and put them into small ziplocs that he tucked into a small tin, as he crushed the empty beer bottle under his heel, put it into an old box in the bottom-most locker before reaching over to another shelf and taking out an old, weather-worn book.

He tossed it at Jae. Jae caught it, the pages feeling worn and weathered, familiar but new in his hands. He looked down, grinned. _A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami._

“How did you--”

“--you stopped right by 1Q84--”

“--right,” Jae found himself blushing out of emotion, out of being bashful that someone had noticed him for something good, some virtue he’d forgotten for the first time in what felt like forever. “Right. Thanks.”

The bell rang.

Brian drew out a small bottle of perfume from one of the shelves, sprayed first himself and then Jae to get rid of the smell of the cigarettes and beer. Jae felt his heart soar. He would smell like Brian all day--he would smell like Brian as long as Brian would let him.

“Shall we?” Brian nodded to the exit.

“Brian.” Jae stood, pulling Brian in by his half-done tie.

Their noses brushed against each other. Jae leaned in to kiss him softly. Brian’s heart jumped, by now so used to being thrilled, he’d almost forgotten how to be savored himself. He pulled Jae in closer by the waist, parted his lips with his tongue, took in how Jae tasted bittersweet, like the beer and cigarettes and some flavor all his own. Jae sighed into the kiss, deepening it further.

When they pulled away, Jae held them close a moment longer, keeping their foreheads pressed together like hands clasped in prayer. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper but it was the clearest sound that Brian had ever heard.

“Take me with you.”

 

The next few months are both intense with planning and the most laid back that Jae can remember being. For one thing, compared to planning whatever the next prank that he’d pull would be, actual calculus, literature, and biology are kind of a piece of cake. And anyway, he and Brian study together--sometimes up on the roof, sometimes at Jae’s apartment (it’s furnished like an old man’s place, his family not having renovated it for years), sometimes at the library’s restricted section, sitting across from each other on the floor between shelves. Jae finds that he enjoys studying with Brian because Brian enjoys learning new things, likes seeing how things work together, how they work apart. Brian finds that he likes studying with Jae because he’s curious: he listens when Brian explains chemical reactions, biochemical mechanisms, he asks questions when Brian talks about the different art movements and why Dada-ism and punk music are irrevocably linked.

Jae’s grades soar, his family content for once--for the first time, Jae starts to see his family ignoring him as a kind of freedom. They could keep New England, he decides, as long as Jae can keep New York, can keep Brian. Brian puts in a bid to run for Student Body President the following year: first step to thwarting suspicion of jumping ship, he tells Jae--make plans for the future. They save money, putting aside at least a bit of what their families gave them as prizes for doing well in school aside, making sure that they kept their actual expenses to a minimum. They didn’t do dinner dates, they cooked at Jae’s place--they didn’t go out after class to movies, they watched them up on the rooftop on Brian’s iPad, sharing the earphones so no one heard them.

The one thing they do spend a bit of money on are maps for their route--they’d have to deactivate their phones, toss them out so that they’d be untraceable. They planned to go west: out to California, by way of land, because their families would definitely expect them to do things the easy way, would check the airports first. They would hawk Brian’s motorcycle in Philadelphia, go via public transport until Knoxville, spend some time in Nashville before making the long drive down to Phoenix and finally, Los Angeles. They would have to work to live leisurely, sure, but with their accumulated funds, with the money they’d both withdrawn for their supposed tuition, they would be able to live alright for at least half the trip: they’d saved up more than ten grand between them. Brian can’t wait to hit the road with Jae, dreams about it in Physics class, dreams about it when he wins the Math Olympics, dreams about it has his dad explains what he’s going to be doing for the company over the summer.

_You’ll be taking care of the marketing division, Brian._

_No, dad. I’ll be somewhere in Tennessee, sipping bourbon while Jae holds me in his arms._

When the day finally arrives for the plan to go into effect, both of them are strangely calm--decided, excited but not nervous. The plan was simple after all of their planning: Brian would say he was sick, Jae would tell his teacher that he had to go to the clinic for one of his allergies--and Brian would park the bike out by the far side of the parking lot. On the way to the clinic, Jae would take the detour down to the badminton courts, the fire escape of which he could climb out of and onto the side of the parking lot where Brian would be with his bike.

Brian wakes up that morning smiling, listening to the sounds of the stuffy Kang household for the last time. He takes in the sight of the heavy oak and carpets with which their penthouse unit is furnished, hears the clatter of cutlery downstairs as his father barks orders on the phone to his associate, as his mom dictates the day’s meetings to his dad. When the maid rouses him for breakfast, he says he’s sick, tells her to please forward the message to his dad and he’d be down for breakfast on his own in an hour. Oh--and if he could simply deposit the amount for Brian’s senior tuition into his bank account so that he could do a digital transfer to the school instead of the usual check that Brian dropped off at the registrar.

He plays all of his favorite records on vinyl, knowing that he’ll have to leave them behind. The minute his dad pulls out of the driveway, the moment his mom’s heels click-clack out of their marble foyer, Brian starts to get dressed: nothing flashy, nothing anyone would ever associate with him. He goes for a black deadpool shirt tucked into dark jeans. Over that, he throws a red plaid flannel. Just for the hell of it, he pulls on his black docs that he never wears. He takes his backpack, stuffed with his shirts and cash, the few books he’s decided to take. As soon as he hears the maid go out to do groceries, he does a double-check to see if the funds have been transferred to his account. _Booya._ He heads down to the garage, stuffs his bag into the storage compartment of his favorite bike--a white Ducati superbike that he’d gotten for his eighteenth birthday--along with his spare helmet for Jae.

He grins as he revs the engine, finally leaving behind the life that had been thrown together for him without _actually_ taking him in mind. He pauses to send Jae a final text-- **_it’s a go, baby_ ** \--before kicking up the stand and zooming off to pick Jae up.

 

It’s Jae that makes the withdrawal. The school has an ATM with a twenty-grand limit; Brian’s left his ATM with Jae--pincode, Jae’s birthday. He heads to school early, making the withdrawal when the place is nearly empty. He stuffs it into an envelope and into his backpack, underneath his tightly pressed (he’d used ziplocs for compression) clothes, savings, books. He attends all of his morning classes to thwart suspicion, letting everyone know that Brian was out sick with the stomach flu.

He’s in calculus when he gets the text.

**_it’s a go, baby._ **

Jae’s hand shoots up in the air, asking if he can ask the nurse for a slip--he feels like he might vomit. Please, the teacher pleads. Please do. With that, Jae takes the hall pass and his backpack, trying not to run down the hall toward the courts, trying to act sick, to not act conspicuous. It’s only when he’s carefully slid into the badminton covered courts that he allows himself  to run at top speed. He can hear Brian’s motorcycle revving outside. His heart is racing. He pushes at the fire escape but it jams: only opens part way. _Fuckfuckfuck the backpack won’t fit._

Jae takes off his pants, puts on his favorite pair of ripped skinny jeans. He kicks off his loafers, stuffs his feet into converse sneakers. He shrugs off his polo, puts on his favorite Metallica shirt, ripped at at the sleeves, cut low--that bit, he’d done just to drive Brian mad because wherever they’re staying tonight, he’s sure that they’re going to fuck and fuck hard, all the excitement built in their bones. He unfurls his black leather jacket and shrugs it on.

He takes a deep breath, pushes his now significantly thinner backpack out of the exit. _Please don’t hit anyone please don’t hit anyone._ It lands with a thud on the landing and Jae lets out a sigh of relief. With that, he turns sideways and inhales, pushing himself out through the half-opening and into broad daylight. He grins, picking up his backpack and running out toward the parking lot where Brian is waiting--his rugged knight on a white motorbike. Brian flips the visor of his white helmet. Jae’s heart jumps in his chest: Brian’s eyes are bright, mouth upturned in a grin. He holds up another helmet for Jae, dangling it on two fingers--it matches Brian’s except it’s red.

Brian lets out a low whistle as he takes the site of Jae in. “Damn, baby.”

“Look who's talking, hotstuff,” Jae says, grinning as he braces an arm against Brian’s sturdy frame before straddling the bike. Brian hands him the helmet. Jae puts it on, wraps his arms around Brian’s waist.

Brian grins, revs the engine. “Ready, babe?”

Jae lets out a laugh, flips his visor down. “I was born ready.”


	2. Cherry Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our boys change the color of their hair, get a car and make their way through to Pennsylvania.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit long. Also, there will be a total of 5 chapters. 
> 
> Typos will be corrected tomorrow.

The first place they stay is at The Dolphin Motel on the border of New Jersey and Philadelphia, right at the edge of Cherry Hill. They pick it not so much for the exterior--it’s a faded blue, the paint peeling, the light-up sign missing all the vowels so it reads a kind of absurd, unpronounceable word which both of them find funny--but for the fact that it’s out of the way, with only a single other vehicle in the small parking lot.

By the time they pull up, both of them are exhausted. Brian’s never driven this far, this intensely before: his back aches, his legs are sore, his head throbbing--he and Jae had only stopped once, at a gas station to fill up the tank, take a leak, and down a couple of Snickers bars for fear of being caught, for fear of being suddenly met with private investigators and an embargo of associates which neither of them would put past both of their families. Both of them only know all too well what’s at stake: the thought of them being caught, being hauled back to their cloistered lives--or worse, Jae thinks, of being jettisoned off to yet another prep school, one without Brian’s warmth to keep him calm--keeping them going even when both of them felt the rigor and rattle of the open road in their bones. Jae’s shoulders burned where the straps of his backpack cut into his flesh, the constant brushing of the fabric too much to bear, even with the padding provided by his leather jacket. He almost regrets putting the sleeveless Metallica shirt on, realizing as they entered the state of Pennsylvania that Brian wouldn’t see the low cut until much later in the day anyway. Brian’s feet wore rough against the rigid structure of his boots--and he’d for a moment wished that he’d packed his trainers, that he’d worn his comfortable shoes instead of trying to look cool.

It’s almost sunset when they get there, both of them finally tired enough to risk stopping somewhere, anywhere. They console themselves (each other) with the fact that their phones have been left more than four towns away by now, tossed off to the side of the road as they drove through a grassy impasse between districts.  Brian parks the motorcycle off to the side, between the building and the grassy walkway leading to the pool. The building is U-shaped, the small but clean enough blue pool nestled in the curve of the U. Tongue-in-cheek they pick between the two honeymoon suites, take the one with the view of the pool--they can’t risk anyone from the parking lot looking into their room; they’re going to be here a couple days.

As soon as they enter the room, Brian locking the door behind them, both of them let their bags crash onto the floor, the sudden release of baggage mimicking the relief that floods both of them. The room is big: the decor is a little tacky, the carpet a less than brilliant shade of blue than what was obviously intended, the paintings on the wall obvious attempts at mimicking Monet: water lilies hang watery above the bed. But it’s clean, at least--not in the least as dusty as Jae expected it to be. Brian grins as he takes in the fact that the bathroom wall is transparent, that inside it sits a huge tub shaped like a heart. __The honeymoon suite, of course__. On the bedside table is a __Welcome!__ card with yellowed edges sitting next to an ashtray. Beside the phone sits a lukewarm bottle of red wine. On the notepad it reads __Congratulations!__  Brian reaches over to pull out the drawer: next to the Bible, a box of condoms.

Jae snorts as he sees what Brian is looking at. “Story of our lives, you mean: the confines of religion side by side the things you need to appreciate who you love the best way you know how.”

Brian lets out a small laugh. “Tired Jae is more prolific than usual.”

“YORFSMAEYHO.”

“What?”

“It’s like YOLO except it means: you only runaway from school and everyone you hate once.” Jae sits on the bed before flopping onto his back, letting the mattress bounce beneath him. He watches the warm light make wave patterns on the ceiling as the pool-reflected light comes in through the balcony doors.

Brian smiles softly, unzipping his boots and heaving a sigh of relief before climbing into bed beside Jae. Jae turns on his side to face him and they lie there, watching each other for a moment. Jae watching Brian, whose dark hair sweeps softly across his face, eyes thoughtful, wind-burned cheeks blushing pink, lips curled into a small smile. Brian watching Jae, whose hair spills a bright, platinum-blonde onto the gaudy blue-and-silver sheets, eyes blinking back at him in that way that is so distinctly him it makes Brian’s heart lurch in his chest, smile big and goofy albeit tired, lighting up his entire face.

“We did it,” Jae whispers softly.

Brian moves closer, bringing their foreheads to touch like they had on that first day: a silent hope that things will go well, a silent thank you for having found each other.

“We’re free.” Brian puts an arm around Jae’s waist, pulling him closer, kissing the small, round swell on Jae’s cheeks that he’s always found adorable if for no other reason than they didn’t quite seem to belong in someone as lanky, as skinny as Jae. A soft, wonderful thing in an elegant, erudite place.

Jae smiles against Brian, running his hands through Brian’s dark hair. In that moment, there’s something about the way that the light catches on Brian’s honeyed skin, something in the way that Brian closes his eyes, that reminds Jae of one of the first things that Brian had told him back in September, when their relationship was just starting out, when all of their big stories were still things that they held inside of them, not yet privy to the other. One of the things, Brian had said, staring out at the view of the campus from their rooftop spot, that he’d always wanted was reassurance from his father, his family, that he’d done well. But no matter the achievement, no matter the excellence with which he did something: it was somehow never enough.

“You did well, Bri,” Jae whispers against Brian’s lips before leaning in to kiss him softly.

When they pull apart, both of them are smiling.

“What do you say we put that heart-shaped love tub to the test?”

“Let’s.”

 

 

The bathwater is warm, the soap that the motel provides smells like cough medicine mingled with antiseptic but it gets the job done. They’ve moved a chair in from the bedroom to serve as a side table, holding up the ashtray into which Jae tips the ash from his cigarette. His hair is wet and slicked back, his glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose as he sits with his long frame curled over his knees, cheek resting on one arm. He’s sitting with his back to Brian, Brian sitting with his legs apart to frame Jae between them as he runs his broad hands softly over Jae’s back, massaging the areas where his backpack have caused his muscles to tense unnecessarily, where they carve pink tracks into his pale skin.

Brian’s hair is swept to the side, a couple of shampoo suds still clinging onto his nape before dropping into the bathwater that laps at his chest, his back. His cigarette hangs between his lips; he blows smoke softly out of his mouth in a wisp that wafts up to the ceiling. With his left hand, he strokes Jae’s nape, knows that Jae is closing his eyes from the contented hum that escapes his lips. He presses his right thumb into the soft hollow between Jae’s shoulder blades and Jae lets out a soft sound of longing, of relief and pain.

“That’s the spot, BriBri.”

“Poor baby,” Brian half-whispers, his voice low, gravelly with exhaustion. “Once we hawk the bike it should be a lot better. Maybe we can trade it for a car earlier so we’ve got leg room.”

Jae nods, opening his eyes, crushing his cigarette butt in the ashtray. “I was thinking we could trade it in for a car at one of the used car places and then trade again once we get to Nashville. That way, if anyone recognizes the car, we can at least leave it to someone else. Public transport seemed like a good idea--but there’ll be CCTVs there. We didn’t think of that.”

Brian hums in assent before reaching over to tap the ash of his cigarette into the waiting ashtray. “Agreed. I was also thinking we should probably change how we look.”

Jae grins, turning in the soapy water to face Brian. “Oh no, are we going to have to undergo facial reconstruction surgery like in those soap operas? I mean, I don’t really mind about __me__  but just so happens I really like your face.”

Brian grins, splashing Jae with the water lightly. “Smart-ass. I was thinking we could dye our hair. I choose yours, you choose mine?”

Jae raises an eyebrow, contemplates Brian for a moment before forming a frame with his index fingers and thumbs. “Hmmmmmm. I __guess__  I can think of something.”

“Also, I was thinking maybe you could pierce my ear?”

Jae’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you sure?”

Brian shrugs, grins, leaning back to rest his back against the wall of the tub. “You think you’re the only one who can take a bit of pain?”

Jae laughs, his feet finding Brian’s shins under the water, allowing them to rest there a while.

“No, but see, __I’m__ used to doing stupid things. There’s nowhere left for me to fall. You, on the other hand, are the highest star there is. So. I’m just trying to keep you up there is all.”

Brian moves across the water, rearranging their limbs so he’s kneeling, hugging Jae’s knees to his chest. He smiles slowly, moving a soapy hand up to lift Jae’s chin to his.

“Well, you’re in trouble there--”

“--I don’t mean cabaret parties or like getting drunk on too much champagne while you do a guy or a girl in the back of a limo, I mean irreparable damage to--”

“--I already fell for you a long, long time ago.”

There is the sound of sloshing of water, and as they kiss, someone outside dives into the pool with a splash. 

 

 

The next morning, Brian wakes up first--his body is still aching, his back, his calves are still stiff, but he forces himself to get out of bed nonetheless. He glances at Jae’s sleeping figure, long limbs curled around a pillow, his face serene. He feels his heart lurch in his chest. There’s something about Jae sleeping that always makes him a little bit sad--relief at seeing someone he loves who is usually so anxious finally find peace in dreaming, but also sorrow at him not finding that dreamless slumber very often. He decides he’ll wait a while before he wakes Jae up. __Just thirty more minutes.__

He sorts through their things: starting with the money they’ve pooled together which he slips into different envelopes hidden in the pockets of their clothing in denominations of hundreds at thousand-dollar intervals--he slips them into the inner pocket of one of Jae’s windbreakers, the lining of one of Brian’s sweaters, the back pocket of their jeans. If there’s one thing that he’s learned in his life of being heir to the Kang conglomerate (past, now, he has to remind himself), it’s never to put all your eggs in one basket. Half of their clothes, Brian unpacks--the others he keeps in their bags which he hides under the bed: just in case someone enters the room while they’re out, just in case they have to bolt in the middle of the night.

Those clothes which he __does__  allow himself to hang up, to fold softly and lay on the shelves in the closet, he takes a while to admire. It’s a hope that he doesn’t want to verbalize, that it’ll take a while for him to admit aloud, to admit to Jae, but more than the crazy things they did together (the smoking cigarettes on the rooftop, the cutting class, the getting away with smoking pot in the greenhouse, the fucking in the library, the fucking in Jae’s Camry in the chapel parking lot, the blow jobs in the science lab), the thing that Brian likes to do most is something he does by himself whenever he sleeps over at Jae’s apartment: that is, get up early and watch their things mingled together, often by accident like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Back in Manhattan, it had been Brian’s chemistry book open face-down on one of Jae’s graphic novels or Brian’s school blazer slung over the back of Jae’s chair, over one of his discarded sweaters from the week past or their shoes lying haphazardly on top of one another much in the fashion that they’d been removed--in the throes of passion, both of them eager to just get everything, as Jae put it, __off__ _ _just fucking__ _ _off.__ Now, it’s all of __this__  that Brian’s taken care to arrange. On the top shelf, their jackets--Jae’s red hoodie on top of Brian’s pink one, Jae’s gray checkered one over Brian’s black leather jacket, Jae’s black leather jacket over Brian’s yellow hoodie. Below that, their flannel shirts and t-sshirts: blue for Jae, red for Brian, plain for Jae, graphic for Brian. On the hangers, their jeans, almost unidentifiable from the slivers of black and blue that show through from where Brian’s standing but for the different colored belts slung through the loops. Brown for Brian, black for Jae.

“Bri?”

Brian turns to see Jae rubbing his eyes, sitting up slowly in bed, his hair a tousled mess. Brian smiles, his heart warm, his anxieties still there but momentarily pushed back, minimized by the man he loves finally being awake, their things arranged side by side: not yet a life together, but the makings, the semblance of one.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Jae cracks a smile. “Good morning.”

 

 

They take their time: shower together, get dressed for the day, both of them sure to wear the most neutral of their clothing. Brian wears shades, Jae wears a cap over his blonde hair. They go to a nearby diner that serves coffee so bitter it reminds Jae of that one time that he’d accidentally bitten into the seed of an orange. Brian has the tuna melt which they burn and which tastes faintly of plastic--from the plate, he guesses, which is, well, made of plastic. Jae has the pancakes which are a little under-cooked in the middle but nothing a lot of maple syrup won’t fix. It’s a badly cooked, cheap meal, but they have it together, both of them passing notes on tissue to each other across the slightly greasy formica table: lines from their favorite songs--and for that alone, it’s better than any of the fancier, more put together meals that either of them have had in their lifetimes.

Jae to Brian in ballpoint, cursive, barely decipherable: **_**_let me swoon over you_**_**

Brian to Jae in print, sign pen, the ink bleeding: **_**_you look so cool_**_**

They leave the diner in a good mood, riding the bike to the closest used car place that they can find. There are rows and rows of used cars--the Ducati fetches a pretty price; they’re steered toward the lane of like-new cars. They try a few out: for a while, they contemplate a Hummer onto which they’d only have to add five hundred dollars if they traded the car in but they decide against it on account of it being to conspicuous. Next, they try out a convertible Mustang right out of an old action movie--pale blue, mint condition, but they vote pass on account of driving top-down isn’t really the best way to __not__ get caught on camera. Finally, they decide on a deep green 1970 Chevy: it’s classic, both something they feel good in, but also plain enough not to be noticed right away. It has a roof, has a good radio, has good mileage, and only required an additional hundred or so on top of trading in the Ducati.

“Bye, baby,” Brian says to his beloved motorbike before handing over the keys to the salesman, who in turn, gives them the keys to the Chevy.

“Thanks for getting us here,” Jae says, waving at the Ducati being wheeled away before slinging an arm around Brian’s shoulders.

They grin at each other, having finished earlier than expected. With that, they climb into their new-old car, and head to the convenience store where they pick up various supplies: hair-dye, a set of sewing needles, ice, Isopropyl alcohol, an apple, a pack of cigarettes.

 

 

When they get back to the room, Jae starts to set up everything they need for the night: the boxes of hair dye (he and Brian had agreed that they’d relinquish all control of the other’s hairstyle but Jae is a little disappointed at Brian having chosen the black--he’d worked so hard to get his hair this light; also he’d chosen bright red for Brian), the needle set to be sterilized, one of Jae’s stud earrings (he’d decided to give Brian one of them so they could wear one in each ear) shaped like a silver revolver which they’d let sit in a small bowl of antiseptic. He lights up a cigarette, takes a drag before looking over at Brian, who’s standing by the balcony window, watching the water.

“Babe? Bri? You alright?”

“You notice anything in the parking lot earlier?”

“What?”

“The other car was gone. The only one parked in it other than us yesterday.”

“Yeah so?"

Brian turns to face him in the half-light, nods toward the pool. “Wanna go for a dip?”

 

 

They jump into the pool after shedding their clothes on the plastic sunning beds. Brian opens his eyes underwater even if it stings a little. He knows Jae is blind without his glasses so he reaches out for him in the slow-moving, vast blue until his arms are around Jae’s shoulders and they’re bobbing to the surface. Jae clings onto Brian for dear life, grinning as he presses their foreheads together, as he wraps his arms around Brian’s waist. They let themselves drift for a while, just taking in the sight, the sensation of each other in the water, watching the pool lights bounce off of each other.

Brian moves a hand up to stroke Jae’s cheek, leans in to kiss him soft, slick on the lips, letting Jae’s lower lip catch between his teeth.

“What the fuck did I do to get so lucky?”

“Be a shitty prefect?”

Brian bursts out laughing. “Yeah, I guess. Thank fuck you wore your hair a bit too long that day.”

Jae grins, leaning in to let his tongue softly flick up into Brian’s mouth as he brings a hand down to squeeze Brian’s butt cheek. “Oh come on. I think we both know that even if I hadn’t, you would’ve come onto me.”

“Or __you__ would’ve come onto __me__ ,” Brian says pointedly.

Jae feigns thoughtfulness, doubt. “Hrrrrrm I mean would I have though--”

“--hah! Deny it and I’ll kill you,” Brian says, reaching over to splash Jae with pool water.

Jae blinks, lets out a laugh, lowers his voice to a soft whisper. “Yeah, fine. Even if I hadn’t worn my hair long, even if you hadn’t done your naughty-boy routine, I feel like I would’ve probably have made a move by dismissal time that day. I would’ve seduced you enough to at least call me.”

Brian chuckles, mischievous. He raises an eyebrow. “And how, pray tell, would you have done that?”

Jae pauses, reaches over to tenderly stroke the fleshy lobe of Brian’s ear between his thumb and forefinger. “Well. Maybe I would’ve asked you about your passions, the things you were into--I would’ve pretended not to know what the homework was. I’d ask if you could tutor me. And while we were sitting there, I’d maybe accidentally skim your pinky with mine or I’d have a knee brush against yours or if you seemed more responsive, maybe I’d run my foot alongside the inseam of your pants--”

“--Christ, Jae. You’re making me hard just talking about that--”

“--and then once I could tell for sure,” Jae says, leaning in, sucking softly on the slick skin of Brian’s neck, enjoying the way that Brian’s breath hitches. “I’d maybe reach over to palm you under the table--”

Jae reaches between them, stroking Brian softly, slowly until he grows fully hard in his palm.

“--fuck--” Brian reaches for Jae too, feeling him already there, enjoying the way that he rolls his hips, pushing himself harder up against Brian’s hand.

“--Bri--”

“--fuck me--”

“--gladly.”

 

 

They run back up to the hotel room, wrapping their towels around their waists, not bothering to conceal the tents already pitched by their erections straining against the fabric. Once there, Jae locks the door behind him and pushes Brian up against the wall, kissing him deep, torrid, all tongue and teeth, sucking on his lower lip until he feels Brian’s hips buck against him, their erections brushing against each other. Brian undoes both their towels until they flutter to the floor, pulls Jae in by the hips, slipping a thigh between his legs and grinding against him.

“Fuck--fuck--Bri that feels good,” Jae squeezes Brian’s ass, letting his middle finger brush suggestively against the flutter of Brian’s hole. He kisses down Brian’s neck, stiffening further as Brian starts to play with his nipples. “God, I want to be in you so bad--”

“--I want you in me so fucking bad,” Brian whines, pushing at Jae, steering him toward the bed. They’re both still wet from the pool, neither of them caring at the moment. Brian pushes Jae onto the mattress, fumbling for the condoms, the lube.

“Let me, Bri,” Jae says, taking them from Brian. Warming a good amount of lube on his hands, he reaches over the slick himself up with one hand before coating his fingers with a little more and circling Brian’s hole with two fingers.

“Fuck,” Brian moans, breathless now. “Jesus--”

“--Jae, but I mean, I guess this is a kind of salvation,” Jae grins, smirking as he pushes his fingers softly into Brian’s hole as the pucker opens into a bloom. “Fuck you’re so open what the actual--”

“--we fucked like crazy days leading up to leaving, remember?” Brian says, impatiently nipping at Jae’s nipples, pushing himself back against Jae’s fingers. “Just fuck me, Jae--”

Jae shakes his head. Oddly enough, with everyone else he’s ever fucked, he’d always liked to go hard, fast, but with Brian he finds he likes to take his time, to enjoy every whimper, every buck of his hips, every time he did anything to draw his name from Brian’s lips.

“--just let me enjoy this a moment longer, okay, Bri?” Jae slowly lets his hands feel for Brian’s prostate, softly lingering there before moving back down.

Brian whines, trembling with anticipation, now unable to properly lick or bite or suck at Jae’s nipples. Spit dripples down his chin as his jaw goes slack with pleasure. With his free hand, Jae strokes Brian just enough to get him hard before letting go.

“Please, baby,” Brian pleads, leaning down to whisper in Jae’s ear. “Please.”

Jae kisses Brian softly on the mouth, the cheek, between his brows. “Okay, baby. Enough teasing.”

He sits up a while to tear the condom packet open with his teeth before rolling the condom on. Brian squirts lube onto his hands, stroking Jae through the condom before guiding him toward his hole and slowly taking Jae in, sitting on his hard cock.

“Fuck--” Jae’s hands curl into fists as he grabs at the sheets.

“--Jae,” Brian says, sitting up straighter, bucking his hips, taking Jae in deeper. “Oh god. Oh you feel so good--”

Jae arches his back, lifts his hips, lets out a string of moans. “--Bri--ride me like that, don’t stop baby--”

Jae strokes Brian lazily with his free hand, barely moving so Brian has to buck his hips faster, harder to get good friction.

“--you’re such a tease, Jae,” Brian says as his hands find the bed and he bends over in ecstasy.

Jae grins. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

With that, Jae holds Brian close, pinning Brian’s shoulders down so that they’re lying chest-to-chest, Brian’s knees tucked tight under him. “Ready? I’m going to cum inside you, alright?”

“Please,” Brian whispers back--and with that, Jae thrusts relentlessly into him, going fast, hard: and then faster and harder still, feeling satisfied as Brian lets out a cry in a broken voice and he feels Brian spill himself onto his belly, sticky between them.

“Oh wow, Bri,” Jae says, grunting with exertion as he thrusts deeper, farther, determined to cum--feeling it building inside of him. He moves a free hand between them, taking a sliver of Brian’s cum and using it to stroke Brian’s still half-hard cock. “Oh fuck you’re so creamy--oh, you feel good, baby?”

“So good, Jae,” Brian’s able to muster between the soft sighs from the over-stimulation. “I think I’m going to die--”

“--oh fuck Brian here we go--”

Jae spills himself into the condom, holding Brian close, kissing him hard as he climaxes. Brian lets himself become jelly in Jae’s arms, turning to kiss his temple as they lay damp and sated on top of each other.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

 

After they wash up, they spend the rest of the night with the balcony door open to let fumes out. They spend the next couple of hours dying their hair: Brian feeling odd about the red hair but choosing to trust Jae--you look so fucking hot, he keeps saying--Jae feeling iffy about the black hair but figuring that if Brian thinks it’s hot then that spins it to __both__ of their advantages. After they’ve done away with the dye supplies, they sit at the kitchen table with ice cubes melting in a bowl, a sterilized needle, and Jae’s earring still swimming in Isopropyl. Brian holds an apple behind his earlobe.

“Ready?”

Brian takes a deep breath, nods.

Jae does it in one swift movement--brings the needle down and through the soft flesh of Brian’s earlobe until it punctures.

“Fuck--”

“--you okay?” Jae softly pulls the needle out, swiping over the area once with cotton and alcohol before slipping in the stud, locking it securely but not too tight.

Brian nods. “It’s…a bit warm but it’s not unbearable.”

Jae grins. “I knew you could take it. Look at me.”

Brian turns to look at him and Jae takes the sight of him in: red hair parted to the side and swept off of his forehead, silver stud glinting in his ear, his black, oversized Led Zeppelin shirt setting off his eyes, his skin.

“You look amazing.”

Brian grins, reaching up to kiss Jae soft, sweet. He runs a hand through Jae’s dark hair, holds him close before kissing his lips, his cheeks, his nose. Again, Brian marvels at how someone like Jae exists--someone made seemingly to destroy him with desire, with love. His lips, his eyes, the way everything comes together when his smile reaches his eyes so they become half-crescents--which is exactly what they’re doing now.

“Look who the fuck’s talking.”

 

 

The next day, the wake up early enough to leave just as the sun's rising. An hour or so later, Brian's father's in-house detective, Inspector Gamja, comes to the motel to ask if they've seen two men--one with black hair, and another with blonde hair, both possibly in uniform. Yes, the concierge will answer--but when they left, he couldn't say. Only gentlemen around here from this morning had red hair, black hair respectively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @teenivuel1227 on twitter and tumblr


	3. A Detour, A New Destination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they have an exciting run-in in Philadelphia, and take a turn different than they’d expected. /whisper/ Yes, this leads up to the Las Vegas chapter which should be up shortly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, guys. I. AM SO HAPPY JAE IS BACK

Philadelphia is kind of like heaven for them--even Brian will admit: he gets complacent, kind of likes that he has the luxury to coast, to watch as the brick buildings and wide roads roll by. Three days and nothing, no sign of trouble. Just the open road and fun banter and stops at burger joints along the highway--and then soft motel room beds at night, Jae warm, smooth, pliant and laughing beside him or curled up around him or else ecstatic in a state of gasping pleasure above him. It’s perfect: music and a good car and the love of his young life. Jae in an oversized, fluttering floral-print shirt. Jae in Brian’s flannel, sleeves rolled up. Jae leaning against the car when Brian comes back from the bathroom at a gas station, cap on backwards, a lollipop in his mouth, his tongue hot pink from the candy.

There’s something about the weather, the air crisp, the sun bright in the sky, but the temperature cool, soothing. They drive the car across the state line and once they get to the edge of the city, decide to take a chance and linger a bit before moving on toward Maryland. Jae says something about good bourbon and a couple of small lakes that were good for swimming, so they decide to maybe stay an extra day, live a little: they go for a two-star hotel, __classy trashy__ as Jae puts it. Not trashy enough to skip the bidet in the bathroom but not classy enough to use key-cards. The room is, again, the honeymoon suite--something that they take to doing just for the pure scandal of it, just to see the look on the faces of the people at the front desk.

This room is wide, with a heart-shaped bed that reminds Brian of something out of The Sims Livin’ Large. There’s an option for mood lighting which dims the lights and plays a spinning projection of the galaxy: neon lights, supernova. They find it romantic at first--and then Jae complains about being dizzy so they turn it off, choosing instead to lie in the light of the reading lamp. They drink cheap wine from the mini fridge, polish off the brand-chocolate: M&Ms, Snickers, Kit Kat. There’s no balcony this time but the bathroom is transparent with a mirrored ceiling that they put to good use, Brian enjoying the look on Jae’s face as he thrusts into Brian, Brian tilting Jae’s chin up toward the ceiling and the slipping two fingers into Jae’s mouth, grinning as Jae sucks on them, licking the space between Brian’s index and middle finger: __look how good you look fucking me like that, babe, sucking on my fingers like that, Jae baby. Watch yourself--oh fuck.__

Jae, however practical he might be about their spending, however much he prizes their shared notebook of maps and plans and calendar of dates and how much they’re allowed to spend per unit time, can’t resist either: after years of being pent up and made to behave a certain way, he likes that out here, he can do whatever the fuck he wants. He likes that love and fucking and indulging in the comforts of his friend-slash-lover can be an everyday thing, not something to be done out of rebellion or trying to upset the status quo. He likes that he can smoke after sex, that Brian will join him for a cigarette when he does, that some nights they get high on weed and empty out the vending machine and then have slow, lazy sex, Brian asking him with that shy look on his face if he could top-- _ _just tonight, baby.__

What Jae doesn’t say because he doesn’t think it needs saying: Brian can top him whenever the fuck he wants. What Brian never says because it’s unspoken, something he thinks is a given: Brian would always ask just to make absolutely sure that Jae was alright with it, a hundred percent comfortable. Give-and-take. And so when a bartender at a pub two blocks from the first place they stayed in the state of Pennsylvania had said something about the outskirts and a small lake called Honey Pool and an out-of-the-way motel called The Little Dipper which had theme rooms, both of them had already begun doing the calculations in their minds: how many days off-schedule, how many dollars off-budget.

Everything seems to fall into place. They decide to stay two extra nights--it’s 20% off on weekday stays, the honeymoon suite free until that Friday, a bag of weed bought at a gas station deal back in New Jersey enough to last them at least two nights, a poker game at the bar that Brian wins: the prize being a hand gun from the bartender that he shows Brian how to work by letting him shoot empty liquor bottles off of a ledge out back.

Jae and Brian laugh: Brian has good aim but can’t stop yelling in surprise whenever the gun sounds. His father had taken him to the shooting range when he was younger but he’d never been able to enjoy it very much.

Tonight is their last night here, the whole day passing in a haze of love-making and watching TV movies, getting buzzed on beer and reading stuff out loud from the comics that they’d bought. Jae likes Brian’s Deadpool voice, Brian thinks Jae does a mean Spidey. They only take a few things with them down to the lake which looks like a disc of black glass in the moonlight: their towels, a belt bag of cash (Brian calls Jae paranoid, Jae says better paranoid than broke and dead), the gun (Jae calls Brian insane, Brian says--well, better insane than dead).

They undress each other in the silver light of the night: Brian taking his time with Jae’s oversized polo shirt, kissing him as the fabric slips off of him slowly--pale shoulder, line of his collarbones, the line of his pelvis. Jae is a little more impatient, tugs Brian’s shirt off and tosses it into a pile by the bank--he’s hungry for the site of him: Brian’s strong neck, his broad shoulders, his dusty-rose nipples that are always pert but more so in the cool evening air, the way his hips swell out and then taper back in past the hips, the line of his strong legs.

Hand-in-hand, the whole night illuminated, they dip into the water, bodies dipping beneath the surface. They open their eyes underwater, kiss soft, smiling. They laugh as they resurface: Jae’s arms resting on Brian’s shoulders, Brian’s hands on Jae’s waist. Legs kicking at the cool water, faces upturned toward the sky.

“Way more beautiful than the galaxy thing in the room,” Brian says, watching the stars twinkle.

“Tell me about it,” Jae says, watching Brian with a soft smile on his lips.

“I can’t believe we did it,” Brian says, meeting Jae’s gaze. “We actually fucking did it. We ran away. We’re free.”

“I never had a doubt.” Jae runs his hands through Brian’s hair, slicking it back up and off of his forehead. He kisses Brian’s cheeks, the space between his brows.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get to California?” Brian asks Jae.

Jae rolls his eyes. “Obviously. Chipotle.”

“We’re passing through Texas. There’s Chipotle there.”

“It’s __different.__ ” Jae grins as Brian splashes water at him, teasing. “What about you, BriBri?”

“Apply for schools, get a job. Also, run into the ocean.”

“How are you still more responsible than me when you’re the one who came up with this whole running away thing?”

Brian grins. “Well, you know. I found someone to love and protect.”

Jae brushes their noses together. “Did I ever tell you that I thought love just wasn’t in the cards for me?”

“Really? Mr. Kicked-Out-For-Sexual-Misdemeanor-Fifty-Hundred-Times?”

“Yeah, well. Love and sex are different. Sex is a business transaction--I mean, don’t get me wrong. They were all my friends, you know. Pil, Dowoonie, Mark, Joshua. A couple of guys doing each other favors--”

“--Christ,” Brian says. “You’re totally one of those hot tub meme people--”

“--no,” Jae counters. “I mean, I __knew__ I was gay. I was just bored, that’s all. It was a service, a scratch-my-back-and-I’ll-scratch-yours kind of thing. But __this__. That first day, I thought I must be dreaming.”

Brian chuckles, his expressing turning serious as he notices that Jae isn’t laughing anymore, isn’t chiding.

“I know what you mean, though,” Brian says slowly. “I thought that if I was ever going to fall in love, it’d be back when Sungjin and I were fuck buddies. You know what they say about wood--”

“--um, only a billion things, Christ, be more specific--”

“--rub any of it together, sooner or later there’ll be a spark,” Brian clarifies. “But I never felt that spark until you. Look, I know we’re young and I know the world doesn’t offer any guarantees, but you’re it for me, Jae Park.”

Jae pulls Brian closer, kissing him deep, tongues meeting soft, warm and reassuring in the cool night.

“I love you, Brian--”

They’re interrupted by a yell from the house, gunshots firing. They both stiffen in the water.

“What the fuck was that?” Jae hisses.

“Where the hell are they?” A loud voice booms from the hotel’s open veranda doors, less than a kilometer up the hill.

Brian’s eyes widen, recognizing who it is. “Fuck. Fuck, they sent Gamja after me.”

“Who the fuck is Gamja?” Jae asks in terror, as he watches the light in the window of their room turn on.

“My father’s private investigator,” Brian says. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay how much is in the belt bag?”

“Under a thousand,” Jae replies. “I didn’t count exactly, but I’d put it at seven? Eight hundred? You’re not implying that we--”

“--yeah, I’m implying that. If we go back, they’ll get us for sure. Gamja’s sharp. He’ll have had the whole place cordoned off by now. In a few minutes, they’ll put two and two together and start heading down here--”

“--but our __plans__ are in those notebooks, Bri,” Jae says. “They’ll __know__.”

“Oh come on, Jae,” Brian counters, already pushing them ashore. “You of all people should know that the best part of making plans is that you can change them.”

 

 

They hurry onto the bank, drying themselves with the towels before haphazardly putting their clothes back on. Brian cocks the gun as he and Jae look for a way out from the lake area without passing by the hotel.

“There,” Jae says, pointing to a small clearing in the distance. “It looks like a portion of the main road. There might be people stationed there, but there’ll definitely be less than at the hotel for sure.”

Brian nods. “Let’s go.”

Hand-in-hand they scamper up the soft, muddy terrain, the rocks scraping their knees as they dash through muddy patches of grass, the sliver of road getting closer and closer. Brian turns every now and then to keep the hotel in sight--all the lights still on--as if doing so will keep Gamja from figuring it out.

“They were here!” A voice calls behind them.

“They’re at the lake,” Jae hisses, pulling Brian along behind him, both of them stepping wider, surer.

“There!” Someone yells. “Movement--there, in the grass--it’s them!”

“Fuck! Run!” Brian says--and they make a break for it.

“BRIAN!” Gamja’s voice booms behind them. “Come home and your father’ll let you have it easy--your __friend__  too--”

They get to the main road, feet hitting the asphalt with relief. Footsteps coming closer. Jae spots it: a pizza delivery bike coasting to a stop just short of the sidewalk.

Brian holds his gun up, pointing it at the rider.

“Hands in the air.”

The rider looks around, confused. Jae kicks the rider in the shin, undoes his helmet.

“Sorry about this, Sir,” Jae says, taking the helmet and fastening the clasp under Brian’s chin before opening up the seat under the compartment, looking for the spare helmet before finding it and putting it on. He tosses the man keys from his jeans pocket. “I swear to god, we wouldn’t do it if we had any other choice. There’s a car at the motel nearby that that key opens. You can have it.”

Brian gets on, hands Jae the gun.

“Freeze!” Gamja and his men gain on them. Someone fires a gun, aiming for their tires--Brian starts the motorbike, swerving to the left, the bullet going through a nearby waste bin instead.

“Go, baby, go,” Jae says, looking back, doing his best to shoot. Jae’s aim is off, his hand shaky: he hits a nearby tree branch, leaves raining down on Gamja and his men. Jae shrugs. “Better than nothing, I guess.”

Brian goes faster, revving the engine, speeding off so fast that the tires squeal. In the side mirror, he sees Gamja’s figure grow smaller and smaller in the distance, knows that he’s taking notes: hair, appearance, piercings, what-have-you.

“Baby,” Brian says, taking a sharp turn toward the road leading off of the highway. “We’re going to have to make a couple of detours.”

 

 

Instead of going south, driving closer to the coast like they’d intended, they instead go west in a straight line: they stick to the smaller roads, actively avoid highways. The first thing that they do is buy a cellphone: Brian decides that if Gamja is going to spy on them, then he’s going to spy back.

It isn’t that he hates the guy __per se__ , he tells Jae one night, as they huddle together in a small, cramped motel bed (they’d only had a single room left) in Kentucky. It’s just that Gamja is his father’s croney: the man who did the legwork his father so despised, the actual effort it took to be a dad--once, he’d even attended Brian’s graduation because his father had been away on a business trip. So, really, Brian hates Gamja more out of default than anything.

__If my dad’s going to fucking try and turn the country upside-down to find me, he better do it himself._ _

The phone is secondhand, outdated--they don’t save any numbers or contacts on it, aren’t stupid enough to log into any of their accounts; Brian just uses it to watch what’s being said about them online. Of course, both of their families had been avoiding a scandal: they’d painted it as a missing persons case, a plausible kidnapping. Brian pretends to hurl into their grocery bag of supplies when he sees that his family’s put up LED signs and posters of his photo--him in his school uniform, the picture of academic excellence with medals around his neck, subtitle reading **_**_St. Jude Student Body Vice President & Junior Year Prefect, Kang Conglomerate Heir Kidnapped_**_**. Jae rolls his eyes as he sees his family’s hashtag trending: #findourbabyJae, as though they hadn’t ignored him for most of his life and continuously tried to ship him off to prep school after prep school for the rest of it.

Under both of those posts--reward for information.

They glance at each other. Photos resurface of them from their first day of running away: Jae at the assembly before school, Brian at a convenience store in New Jersey. And then the money shot--a photo of them at one of the gas stations, the CCTV camera showing Brian’s hair a bright red, Jae’s hair black, fringe falling into his eyes.

They wear hats until Bowling Green, make balaclavas out of stolen motel room robes, the logos of which they cut out. They rob a string of liquor stores in the city, acting fast, quick: Jae yelling, moving behind the counter as Brian holds the gun aloft, firing at one of the alcohol bottles just to show everyone that the gun was loaded. They take mostly cash, only bothering to pocket a bottle of Jae’s favorite bourbon on the last run before they speed up and out, not stopping until they cross the next border.

 

 

At the next city, they trade the motorbike in for a gray Corolla with no air-conditioning.

They dye their hair again the minute that they reach Indianapolis. Jae shaves the side of Brian’s head into an undercut, bleaching all of it a stark silver. He lines Brian’s eyes with eyeliner, pierces a second hole into his other ear, giving him his other earring. It would be less conspicuous for both of them: one of the photos of Jae circulating online had him wearing both of his earrings, his hair platinum-blonde. Brian dyes Jae’s hair a soft, ash brown. He crops the back so that the length of it hangs around Jae’s chin. Jae hates it, thinks he looks kind of like his sister. Brian insists it’s pretty hot--in a worn out, art student kind of way.

They toss the shaver into the small filter compartment of the motel pool.

 

 

They stick to the byroads, stick to smaller motels, no longer renting out the bigger suites but sticking to spartan rooms. Sure, it smells a bit, sure sometimes the bed is stained, sure, it’s significantly harder to luxuriate more so fuck in a shower so cramped Jae could hardly lift both arms without disturbing the shower curtain. But they make do: stick to instant noodles and cheap cigarettes, even end up ditching the condoms by the time they cross the border into Tennessee--neither of them had any intentions of fucking anyone else ever, anyway. Their budget is meager but enough to split between the both of them if they cut back on the indulgences. No more wine that didn’t come out of a box, no more bourbon they hadn’t stolen, no more brand chocolate.

Their money would last them at least until Las Vegas--and once there, they have a plan, one that can’t fail.

 

 

In Illinois, they hawk the Corolla for an old Suzuki that smells like rotten noodles. They don’t bother stopping for the next couple of states, both of them taking turns driving while the other slept: Missouri, Kansas going by in a blur of roadside and blue skies, old gas stations and empty fields, packs of cheap cigarettes and restless nights punctuated with cups of battery-acid convenience store coffee. They take make-shift showers in gas station bathrooms, washing their hair in the sink, brushing their teeth with a tube of toothpaste Jae carries in his front pocket.

The next stop they feel safe enough to make is in Denver, at a used car junk shop where they hawk the Suzuki for a gaudy black-on-purple Honda traded cheap because it belonged to an old lady with no relatives who’d died the month before. Perfect condition despite it being a sight for sore eyes. It had pink, Hello Kitty-patterned upholstery. Jae calls it their hello pussy sedan. Brian laughs--says he prefers to think of it as mimicking Jae’s pretty mouth: all flashy talk on the outside, pink and soft on the inside. Jae gives him head as they drive out of Colorado, Brian doing his best to keep his hands on the wheel, to keep his head on right and steer them into Amarillo as he spurts into Jae’s mouth, watching in his periphery as Jae laps up the cum, resurfacing with a hand to his lips, licking at his long fingers.

__Fuck. Fuck, how am I supposed to know where to go? Jae, if this is how we get caught, I’ll fucking kill you._ _

But they don’t get caught. They make it to their next stop safely: another non-descript motel room in Pueblo, right outside of Colorado Springs, this time smaller, tinier, even more cramped than any of the others--not that it matters because contrary to threats made at the height of pleasure, Brian ends up making tender love to Jae on the bed with a flower-patterned duvet that looks like it was manufactured in 1968, both of them collapsing into road-weary, fucking-induced sleep right after. They wake up the next day with each others’ fluid still crusted, dry on each other. Brian pulls Jae into the shower when it’s still early, both of them still half-asleep.

No room for fucking up, so to speak, when they’re this close to getting away with it.

Brian makes them a breakfast of instant coffee and non-toasted pop tarts. Jae scrolls through Twitter, shaking his head.

“These fucking bastards. They’ve put up patrols in SoCal and NorCal--we can’t get to LA, we can’t go by way of Sacramento. They’re at the toll ways in San Diego and Anaheim too. Fuck. Fuck, I wish I’d taken our goddamn notebook before we headed down to the lake--”

“--we regroup, then,” Brian says.

“How can you stay so calm?” Jae’s eyebrows furrow as he lights a cigarette. “I’m so fucking anxious."

Brian shrugs. “We’re going to get away from them. That’s the only end to this I’m willing to look at.”

Jae continues to scroll, reading through different motels raided in the cities they’d detailed in their notebook: Nashville, Cincinnati. Some people coming forward with leads, but only as far as the string of liquor stores they’d robbed. Since then, nothing. Since then, the investigation’s focus had shifted toward California: guarding the end-goal, cutting them off.

“How do you feel about Mexico?” Brian asks, looking up at Jae.

Jae raises an eyebrow. “Well, I mean. The beach, yeah. Easy enough to disappear--”

“--also, different jurisdiction for all legal things,” Brian adds.

“And also, it’s very Fast & The Furious.”

“But like, if Michelle Rodriguez and Jordana Brewster ended up together,” Brian assents.

“Money though, Bri,” Jae reminds him. “We’re running low. Under five hundred dollars now, even with the liquor store haul. Why the fuck is gasoline so expensive?”

Brian sighs, leaning over to kiss Jae. “We’ll have to stop at Vegas and go through with the plan, then.”

Jae grins. “I’ll have to admit--I’m looking forward to that. I’ve never seen your stripper skills before.”

Brian laughs, winking at Jae. “Try not to get hard in public, okay, baby?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fourth chapter should be up by tomorrow or Tuesday. ;)


	4. Las Vegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hi to StripperK. Thanks for 666 followers on Twitter. Typos will be corrected tomorrow. :)

Las Vegas is everything they expect: heat in the afternoon when they roll in, the Nevada sun a big, orange thing sinking into the city’s skyline--and then the cool evening, bright lights, the whole night lit up with big signs, blinking offerings of fortune, fame, true love. Casinos, burlesque shows, wedding chapels--strip clubs. The plan is one they’d come up with back in New Jersey as they’d lain in bed, discussing worst-case scenarios. Of course, they’d inevitably talked about money--and Brian had told Jae about his secret talent, the one thing that he found gave him more pleasure than advanced calculus.

“ _ _Stripping__?” Jae had repeated, pinning Brian to the bed of that first motel room.

“Stripping,” Brian had affirmed, nose scrunching as he chuckled at the memory. “As prefect and VP of the Junior class, I took it upon myself to always organize the best hidden parties, the delectable soirees of sin after whatever boring prom or dance or whatever the school was having us hold--sometimes at one of the burlesque bars in Manhattan, sometimes at Sungjin’s dad’s penthouse when it was free, sometimes a secret anteroom that the hotel provided. There always happened to be some kind of pole or some kind of guy with a stiffer pole in his pants. So why the hell not?”

“Fuck,” Jae said, brushing his lips over Brian’s, letting his tongue flicker up into his mouth. “Fuck I’m getting hard just thinking about that.”

Brian laughed, propping himself up on his elbows, slipping his leg between Jae’s thighs-- _ _bingo.__ “Well, if we ever run out of money, maybe you’ll get to see it sooner rather than later.”

“If that ever happens,” Jae had said, pulling Brian to him by the collar of his shirt. “I’ll be sitting in the front fucking row, stuffing all of my dollar bills into the garters of your underwear.”

“You better be,” Brian had shot back, pulling Jae to him with a hand on his nape like a sunset drags twilight behind it.

Tonight, they cruise down one of the main boulevards, Jae at the wheel and at it again with one of his lollipops, Brian scanning the avenue for the address he’d pulled up on Google Maps. He glances down at his phone, checks the Tweet again: **_**_US $5000, amateur stripper contest, The Unihorn, 666 Paradise Road._**_** Jae is wearing a suit--they’d gotten it at a thrift store for under fifteen dollars, had it laundered and pressed. Tonight, he isn’t Jae Park, delinquent extraordinaire, but Jay Park (according to his fake ID), Silicon Valley Tech Consultant out here on business. Brian is dressed in a classic stripper trope outfit: hot fireman, the jumpsuit yet another thrift store quickie, LVFD still stark black on the back. They’d decided to splurge and buy a fireman’s hat and miniature hose at a toy store too.

As for the underwear--well, Brian is unsure. It’s a bit tight and not Brian’s idea of something to blow fifty bucks on, but Jae kept calling him __foxy__  so he took it as a good sign. And anyway, what’s fifty in the bigger scheme of things. If they win tonight, Brian thinks to himself, they’ll rent a good room for the night, a little bit of heaven before they saddle up for the long drive toward the border: some place with a big, fancy tub where they can soak their troubles away while drinking good wine. A decent bed with sheets that have a decent thread count on which they could fuck slow, languid, holding each other close for however long they wanted. Also, burgers. Brian wants burgers. If he had to eat another instant noodle cup pledging real seafood flavor, he was going to end up suing someone over false advertising.

“There,” Brian nods, pointing toward the corner. Iridescent lights pour out onto the boulevard. “The unihorniest unihorn in all of Nevada.”

Jae lets out a low whistle as he pulls up the hand break. He lets his gaze drift over Brian again, making precautions, making sure that there were no identifiers in place: silver hair, closely shaven undercut, Jae’s studs gleaming silver in his ears. The fireman jumpsuit is a good, navy blue, hugging Brian’s broad physique close, emphasizing all the right places--shoulders, chest, hips, thighs.

“You okay there, Jae?” Brian asks, grinning mischievously. “Keep it in your pants at least until I fucking get on stage.”

Jae rolls his eyes, knowing that Brian could tell he was warm, that Brian had espied the small bulge in his pants that hadn’t been there a moment earlier.

“Let’s do this, show-off.”

 

 

All of the guys are good--but as soon as the last contestant before Brian performs, Jae is sure, knows it in his gut that they’re going to win. Because as soon as the stage is cleared and the lights drop low, Usher’s Burn starting to pulse through the stereo as Brian walks on stage, Jae feels himself grow stiff, the fabric of his pants blooming into a tent. He’s seated in the front row, has a crystal-clear view as Brian walks out, eyes fixed on him, set to kill, grin sly, fox-like. There’s something about Brian’s swagger, something about how sure he is of himself, how confident, that lends to the performance: it isn’t just in his body (although there’s that too), it’s in the way that he carries himself. He starts off slow, putting a hand on the pole, dancing close, hips grazing the metal ever-so-slightly as the violin intro plays, the beat kicking in.

As soon as the verse hits, Brian starts to grind harder, slipping the pole between his thighs, tilting his upper body back before running a hand over his chest, his thighs, that sweet spot between his legs that Jae’s been many, many times. A bead of sweat trickles down Jae’s back. __Motherfucker.__

 _It’s gonna burn for me to say this_  
_But it’s coming from the heart_  
_It’s been a long time coming_  
_But we done been fell apart_  
_Really wanna work this out_  
_But I don’t think you’re gonna change_  
_You do but I don’t think it’s best_  
_We go our separate ways_

Brian catches Jae’s eye, smiles. Jae thinks he might actually keel over and die. And then the chorus blasts through the speakers and Brian lets the pole go only to rip the buttons off of his jumpsuit. The crowd cheers. It rains dollar bills--Brian lets the fabric slip off of his shoulders, hips gyrating as lets his thumbs graze over his nipples which harden in the open air, against the flesh of his fingers.

 _I think that you should let it burn_  
_When your feelin’ ain’t the same and your body don’t want to_  
_But you know_  
_You gotta let it go_  
_Cause the party ain’t jumpin’ like it used to_  
_Even though this might bruise you _  
__

As the chorus ends, Brian drops to his knees, hands finding the pole again, this time, every movement slower, clearer. He tosses his head back, hips forward, a hand finding its place on his fireman’s hat. Jae is breathless, is hardly able to register that now Brian has gotten on all fours and is now crawling--crawling toward __him.__ The song shifts again and Brian is lifting Jae’s chin up toward him. Brian is on his feet again, straddling the pole, letting himself slide down it, strong thighs, the fabric clinging to his legs, his crotch, leaving no detail to the imagination.

The crowd goes wild.

Brian grins at Jae.

Right, Jae thinks. Right. The plan.

His hands fumble with his dollar bills, slipping one into Brian’s suit, sticking it between the cloth and Brian’s chest. Brian keeps Jae’s hand there, letting Jae’s fingers track on the sweat trickling down his chest. Brian bites his bottom lip as he peels his suit down further, revealing the small v-taper of his pelvis, leading lower and lower still deep, slick with sweat under Jae’s touch. Someone in the room whistles. The stage is showered with more money--and then Jae realizes what Brian’s doing as Jae’s fingers find the black garter of his tight underwear.

Jae pulls out a wad of bills, sticks them into the black garter. Brian winks, makes a show of shimmying his suit down his hips to reveal a tight black thong, the garters straining against his the swell of his hips, the flesh of his ass where it disappears into the jumpsuit. Jae blinks once, twice, wondering how only hours ago, the same man had been reading web-toons on his phone.

The song hits its apex.

 _It’s been fifty-leven days, um-teen hours_  
_I’mma be burning ‘til you return_

In a single flourish, Brian rips the entire ensemble off of him, leaving only that skimpy, tight black thong that Jae swears to god is sin incarnate. Brian pulls at the garter, grinning as more people come up toward the stage, stuffing his underwear with money. He shows off his neck, slick with sweat, sticks his tongue out as he takes off his fireman’s hat, sets it on Jae’s head.

Jae takes a breath--that’s their signal, their code for Brian’s final flourish. Jae takes out the toy hose that they’d filled with water, sprays Brian with it. The crowd hollers, the din of it deafening as Brian is drenched from the head-down. He grins, water trickling down his shoulders, his torso, his thighs. He runs his hands through his hair, getting up on his feet, slowing as he walks back to the pole, showing off his ass, his well-sculpted thighs.

At the pole, Brian takes a victory spin: jumping high before hanging on for dear life, spinning around the pole that is slick between his thighs before landing in a final pose, pole between his legs, one arm straining to hold himself up, torso back, hair brushed up and off of his forehead, his other arm brandished up and over, eyes set on Jae--bright, victorious.

 _Good?_ Brian mouths.

 _I’m so fucking hard,_ Jae mouths back, unable to resist grinning himself. __You’re amazing.__

 

 

Taking precaution becomes the hardest damn thing when both of them want nothing more than to be on each other--in each other. Jae drives, going the fastest that the speed limit will allow, until they get to a decent hotel on the outskirts of Vegas. Brian is unable to resist, starts touching them both through the fabric of their pants, both of them hard, breathless by the time that they arrive.

“Fuck,” Jae giggles, pulling up into the parking lot. “How the fuck are we supposed to get in there.”

Brian grins. “Wear it out and proud.”

They go for the deluxe room, paying for everything in cash. It’s the city of sin: no questions are asked of them even as Brian, still soaked albeit dressed in his regular clothes, drags the suitcase of cash behind them, a few spare dollar bills slipping out of his pocket as he and Jae track water into the elevator.

As soon as they’re in the room, the door bolted behind them, the suitcase stashed safely under the bed, Jae pushes Brian onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head, unbuttoning his jeans. Brian grins in the half-light at how eager Jae is, how hard where their erections touch. Brian’s legs come to loop around Jae’s waist, his hands slipping under Jae’s shirt, untucking his shirt, undoing the clasp of his slacks.

“My goodness, baby,” Brian whispers into Jae’s ear. “Keep it in your pants.”

“Fuck you,” Jae half-growls into Brian’s ear as he kisses the hollow of his neck, the line of his shoulders, the curve of his chest, tongue coming to flick at Brian’s nipples. “Fuck, fuck, fuck you looked so fucking good on that stage-"

“--just on stage?” Brian asks, breathless now as Jae starts to rub him through the fabric of his underwear, jeans pushed low onto his waist.

“--no, not just on stage, but _especially_ on stage--” Jae’s breath hitches. Brian’s still wearing the black thong.

“Something the matter, Mr. Park?” Brian says, his voice lilting, taking on a sing-song quality.

“This god-forsaken underwear,” Jae says as he pauses, sitting up to pull Brian’s jeans off, to pull off his own pants, his shirt.

“Keep the tie on,” Brian says softly.

“Jesus Christ.”

“What was it you said to me that first time? It’s Brian, but thanks--”

“--shut up and let me eat you out,” Jae says, pushing Brian onto the bed. Brian grins, resting his head against the pillow, letting out a moan as Jae pushes the string of the thong aside, bringing one hand up to palm him through the soft cotton while his mouth kisses softly against Brian’s hole, tongue coming up to play with him as he fluttered, shuttered against Jae’s ministrations.

“Oh fuck, Jae,” Brian moans into the mattress, his hands turning into fists as he clutches the sheets. Jae palms him closer, harder, feeling how Brian goes rod-stiff against his touch. “Fucking fuck--”

Jae pushes in softly with his tongue on the bloom, grinning at how flustered Brian gets, how he tries to buck his hand into Jae’s palm. “--naughty. Fucking naughty evil fucking boyfriend--”

“--I’m not sure if you think those are supposed to be insults, baby--”

Jae grins, pushing two fingers into Brian’s mouth. “--lick good.”

Brian does as he’s told, making sure to get over, between, around, giving Jae’s fingers a good suck before Jae pulls them out of his mouth. Brian keens as Jae starts to rim him, going excruciating slow, the slick spit helping his fingers glide into Brian’s hole on the bloom. Brian starts to moan, fucking himself slowly on Jae’s fingers.

“Holy fuck,” Jae says, letting out a slow breath, catching Brian’s eye as Brian looks over his shoulder at him, eyes fierce with pleasure, mouth slack with want. “Oh god, BriBri--”

“--Jae,” Brian says, breathless, taking Jae’s fingers in deep. “No offense--”

“--what--”

“--but fuck me. Just fuck me already, please. Jesus.”

Jae grins, pulling his fingers out, holding Brian in place with the garters of his underwear. “Okay. Okay, there you go again with the--”

“--just do it--”

Jae guides himself into Brian, both of them shuddering with pleasure. Jae lets out a low, broken moan as Brian starts to push himself back over Jae’s cock. He keeps a hand on the small of Brian’s back, rubbing him softly before beginning to thrust into him. He tries to go slow but can’t help himself, the visuals of tonight’s performance superimposed onto his vision of Brian now: on his knees, taking him in, eyes half-closed in ecstasy.

Jae goes faster, faster, harder still before curling himself around Brian, reaching over to free Brian’s cock from the flesh of his underwear, stroking him close, hard, slick as he pounds into him.

“Cum for me, BriBri--”

Brian is breathless, arms straining to keep him upright, to keep him back up against Jae as he thrusts into him.

“Here I go, baby--”

Brian spills himself onto the bed, all over Jae’s long fingers.

“Oh god, that’s good,” Jae says, feeling the warmth against his skin, all of his restraint leaving him as he finds Brian’s prostate with the head of his cock, holding him in place as he brushes against it, sending pulses of pleasure through Brian’s body. And then Jae feels it: his own orgasm pooling in his gut, at the base of his cock as he thrusts into Brian a final time and pulling out a fraction too late, his cum spilling out of Brian’s hole, onto his thighs, the bed.

Jae collapses on top of Brian, both of them sticky with each other. He kisses Brian’s temple, his cheek, his broad back.

“Fuck,” Jae says, breathless. “I love you, Brian Kang. You’re crazy.”

Brian laughs, turning to face Jae before pulling him in by the black tie around his neck. He kisses him soft, deep, slow.

“Look who’s talking.”

“Bubble bath?”

“Definitely.”

 

 

The next day, they’re up at the crack of dawn, have their food sent up to the room: it’s a good breakfast, basic but filling--pancakes, eggs, bacon, good brewed coffee. Jae watches Brian eat, his hair still rumpled, the sun spilling in from the nearby window. Today, they set out for the border--the entire trip is eleven hours with regular gasoline station stops. The final leg, the last hurrah.

“You okay, Jae?” Brian asks, looking up from his cup off coffee.

Jae nods. “Just daydreaming.”

“About?”

Jae shrugs, smiling as takes a sip from his own mug. “You know. Running away with you to some paradise by the coast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fifth chapter is more of an epilogue, really, so if all goes well it should be up on the same day. Hope you guys enjoyed this and thank you for reading. :)


	5. The Sea, The Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they cross the border.

“Jae,” Brian says, nudging Jae carefully as he pulls up to the side of the road. It’s early morning now, the sun coming up in the east, a pale thing in the horizon that is still mostly blue. To the west, the moon is still a pale orb in the sky: communion host dunked in water. Jae sits up, groggy with sleep, the side of his face marked with the same pattern as the seat belt.

“Mmmm? You tired baby? Want me to drive?”

Brian leans over, kisses Jae on the forehead. “I’m fine. But we’re almost to the border. Five more minutes. It just occurred to me that this might be the last time we ever set foot here ever again--at least in the near future. We should probably go out and say goodbye.”

Jae grins. “You sentimental piece of shit.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “Sue me.”

They stand by the side of the road, leaning on the car and facing a field of green, overgrown grass. In the distance, there is a gas station, a convenience store, a diner whose giant sign has just gone off as the sun rises. Brian glances sideways at Jae, takes in the way that he is leaning his lanky frame against the car, the line that his neck makes as he looks up at the sky. Slowly, Brian grins, puts a hand out to trace the collar of Jae’s shirt, letting his fingers skim the soft length of his hair which has grown about a bit, kissing just short of the fabric. Like the first time, but tender. Like the first time, but in love, so many miles between their love and the people who would have it swept under a rug.

“Too long for school, prefect?” Jae asks, grinning, not taking his eyes off of the rising sun but slipping his hand into Brian’s.

“Nah. It’s just right.”

Brian grins, pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, plucking one out of the pack with his lips before offering it to Jae.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Brian lights Jae’s cigarette and then his own and they spend a few minutes just like that: hand-in-hand, watching the sun come up before crushing their cigarettes out with their shoes and getting back in the car. Next stop: Mexico.

 

 

 They cross the border holding their breath, still not believing they’ve made it even as they drive away from the toll gate, the metal frames and concrete booths shrinking in the rearview mirror--both of them still in disbelief that in California, there are investigators and policemen waiting for two kids in love who will never get caught, two men who are finally starting a life together.

As they pull into the city, the different buildings rolling by, the landscape changing from bare to crowded with colorful houses, street-side eateries and ice cream booths, they both know that they’re thinking about the same thing: yes, later, they’d both have to find jobs. Yes, in a while, they’ll both have to find yet another motel in which to crash until they find a small, cramped place that will lend their life together some kind of permanence. But right now, in this moment, all both of them want is to see the sea--that promise of a big, blue something that both of them have clung to for the past week, the past months, the past year or so: huddled together on the sofa on the rooftop of the science building or kissing in the library’s restricted area or watching movies at Jae’s apartment or slipping each other notes in Calculus. It hung between them like a promise made with pinkies curled tight, tethered them to their future like a kite hoping for the wind to please, please take it where it needs to go. And now here they are.

Brian drives past the town hall, goes and goes and goes down the road like Jae’s finger down the path in map that he’s unfolded, both of them a little manic, eager now--and then they see it: sparkling blue water on blonde sand, the morning sun high and bright. Some people are surfing, a couple of others are reading on the sand. They look at each other and grin as Brian parks the car, pulling the handbrake up, pulling the keys out of the ignition. They make a break for the shoreline, both of them shedding their shirts, their shoes, their jeans--Brian slips the car key into his left sneaker--and running into the water in their boxers, both of them heaving a sigh of relief as the water laps at their ankles, their shins, their knees.

Jae tugs Brian a little closer, a little deeper. The sand shifts beneath their feet. Jae turns to Brian, slipping both of his hands in his.

“I’d kiss you but I don’t want to close my eyes,” Jae says, studying Brian’s face, thinking about just how beautiful he looks in this light: that faint golden undertone to his skin, his hair glowing silver in the sunshine, his eyes bright, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

Brian grins, settles for eskimoing their noses together as he memorizes Jae in this moment--the sea breeze, his brown hair drifting in the wind, grin wide, shoulders slightly back as a breeze blows by.

“Same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this fic, everyone who’s given this little bit of fiction the time of day. I know it isn’t the kind of thing that everyone will love but I appreciate those who have loved them. :) 
> 
> See you guys in the next one!


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